The Voices Through Which I Speak

Name: Born: Raven D'Lesandro Now: Raevyn Cottone

Ethnicity: Caucasian of Italian ancestory

Age: 27

Height: 5'2"

Weight: 117lbs

Tattoos: A tiny gray cross with with a heart wrapped around the meeting points over her heart. A crude long-stemmed rose up the expanse of her right side, with the stem going down onto the upper thigh. All in simple black ink.

Scars: A thin scar that runs from behind the left ear, down to the left collar bone, usually unnoticable due to how she wears her hair. Scars that run from mid-forearm, down to the elbow, on each arm, about 5/8 of an inch wide. Several cigar burns tracing the outline of her shoulder blade. Some scarring around the rose tattoo.

Appearance: (Oh gosh, I really detest using pictures, I'm not going to lie, but I shall present, because I know it gets a better feel for the characters and other folks.)

Raevyn is a woman of short stature, even for being a woman. She has hair that appears to be black; however, it is simply that dark of a shade of brown, with piercing green eyes the color of fresh grass. She tends to not wear make-up during her hours at her day job, but when night rolls around you'd be hard-pressed to recognize her for who she is. She is just short of an athletic build for a woman, though hard to tell due to the generous chest and hips that her hertiage so adorned her with. Finishing the package that is Raevyn is the round face and larger nose of so many other Italians.

Clothing: During the day Raevyn can be found wearing any number of seemingly off-the-rack dresses, all of which she has made herself from fabric acquired here and there, so as to allow for her size and stature, as well as creating places within her clothing where she could easily conceal weapons that allow her to ease her paranoia of being attacked. When night arrives and she is on duty she can usually be found in varying arrays of blacks, reds or greens also tailored by her into skirt suits, or pants suits, depending on what the job of the evening requires her to do. Very rarely does she wear evening gowns; however, she does have one or two stashed aside for just in case situations.

Skills: Deceivingly strong for her size; however still unlikely to win in a fight of brute strength. Strategist. Bilingual (English-Italian). Ability to blend into any situation, whether it be criminal undeworld, or extravagant dinner party, without really being a memorable face. Expert shot with Webley Revolver. Okay shot with Smith & Wesson Triple Lock Revolver. Good with knives, while a seemingly useless skill, even though you shouldn't bring a knife to a gun fight, most still don't anticipate a lady to be in any fight. Can be quite the charmer for a lady.

Biography: Coming to the Americas at the age of four, right around the peak time of immigration for Italians, proved to have many advantages for the then Raven. As a small child, while Italians were still not a found character of the already American population, she was quite adorable. Raven learned to use the ability of having a child's charm and innocence to be able to work as an apprentice in a flower shoppe, mostly plucking leaves off of stems, and sweet talking the gentlemen into buying more flowers for their members of affection. Earning pennies a day allowed her to bring home enough to provide for her and her younger brother, while her father's wages could cover for his and her mother's expenses. Granted most of these expenses covered Father's drinking and gambling habits.
By the time Raven was sixteen, she began to bloom into a lovely young woman, bringing more men into Fannie's Flowers than had ever been seen before. Fannie, seeing the advantages of this, began to use Raven as a poster child, placing her at the front counter of the store, bringing in orders and beginning to teach her the craft of creating flower arrangements. Raven leaped at the opportunity, not wanting anything to do with suitors, but because of the raise in pay Fannie offered. Barely anything more than she was previously working, but allowing her more hours, and more money to support her then thirteen-year-old brother, who was receiving more abuse from their father than she had ever seen before.
Everything seemed to be going well, until she came home one evening to see her brother with a knife in hand, and her mother holding her father's arms back as he tried to beat her brother to death, blood dripping from a cut that was no where near fatal on his side. Walking in on the scene Raven screamed, demanding to know what was going on, and shocking her brother into turning around too quickly, flailing the knife and causing the scar running behind her ear and down her neck. Her brother quickly dropped the knife, and screamed at her to run. At the time, Raven had no idea what was going on, but later wished she would have run.
The following day all had seemingly calmed down in their household, but her brother was not permitted to speak to her. Try as she may she could not separate him from their father's side. Supper time came, and that's when the knock on the door arrived. In a house as small as theirs, it was easy to hear the conversation at the front door, and watching as tears streamed down her brother's face, she realized just as it was being said,
"I've come to collect your debt--the girl leaves with me, tonight." Her own father had gambled her away.
For a while, it didn't seem so bad. The man who'd won her, Jeffrey Moretti, seemed nice enough. He still permitted her to work for Fannie. Raven was able to receive letters from her brother, though they were far and few between, and extremely rushed. Two years went by, and then Moretti changed. He became abusive. Blamed all of his newfound money problems on her because she split her wages and still sent some home to her brother. Burned her in places that wouldn't be seen during the day, in hopes he could whore her out for funding. Then one day, she just snapped. She knew how her brother felt the night he'd taken a knife to their father. So she took a page from his book, and waited for Moretti to come home. She'd sewn a long, thin pocket inside one of her dresses, that allowed her to hide a steak knife within, without cutting herself. She waited behind the door of the small apartment they were in, and when he walked in, she aimed higher than her brother had, misjudging on Moretti and stabbing the knife straight into his collar. Little did she know, that was the night Moretti brought home company.
The man that had seen it all, didn't strike her, as she anticipated, but was impressed. He'd already had a revolver out, pointed at Moretti's back, awaiting to shoot him and take any items he'd had in the apartment. He introduced himself as Greco, and that's it. He invited her to partake in a new world. A new life. And so she did.
Changing her name up, she became Raevyn. Arm candy to gentlemen at events, though never more, and owner of Budding Blossoms. The one flower shoppe where by day you could buy flowers for your loved ones, and by night you could smuggle anything you wanted within a beautiful bouquet, if the price was right.